Wonderland
by Fiona2
Summary: A late night meeting reveals some ugly truths. Not your typical S/V pairing. *ch. 3*
1. Late Night

~WONDERLAND~  
  
"Late Night"  
  
  
  
~  
  
She was trying to concentrate on the paper in front of her. She never had this much trouble, but her eyes kept wandering off the page, drifting out the window, and when they returned she couldn't even remember what she was doing. She gritted her teeth and then let out a long sigh. Her head ached, her hand ached, and her eyes were dry and tired from lack of sleep.  
  
Sleep. Yes, she should be in bed now. She looked over at the clock and almost laughed. The glowing display read 2:30 am. What had it been? 11:00, 11:30 when she had told Francie just twenty minutes more? And in all that time how much did she have done on the paper? Half a page more? She was crazy if she thought she'd be able to finish it by the due date. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. It just wasn't like her to ever have trouble writing. Words simply flowed off her fingers and onto the page, sometime so fast, so uncontrolled that she felt like she was going to explode trying to make her hand keep pace with her mind.  
  
Sydney finally slapped her hands against the desk and stood up. It was a lost cause. Her mind was intent on wandering and with lack of sleep there was no way she was going to get it back on track. Her will power was completely expended. Instead she made her way groggily into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.  
  
An odd smell hit her as the air rushed out and she pulled back. It wasn't milk, not the Thai food. She pulled out a small container and grimaced: Francie's tofu. She handled it gingerly and tossed it into the garbage under the sink.  
  
She sat up on the counter and looked around the dark house. Francie was asleep, but she could still feel all the hurt from the days before. All the hurt Charlie had caused her, all the pain Sydney had inflicted. She couldn't forgive herself for that. Francie had come back, they had cried, talked, laughed, forgiven, but some things were impossible to take back. At the time Sydney had taken it all in stride, had understood her roommate needed to vent, that the news about Charlie was crushing, heartbreaking, but then the words began to sink in.  
  
Her accusations about her job had hit home. She had been naive to think she could simply quit what she was doing, but at what price should she keep going?. The fact was she knew deep down that she couldn't quit. There was no way Sydney could live with herself if made that kind of choice. What would she be able to tell the bloodied man who lay in the bathtub of her nightmares? What could she say to the pictures on her nightstand of the man she had loved? Still loved.  
  
Nothing had changed there. Danny kept her going. Or was it revenge? Was she simply angry? Was that it, taking down SD-6 was just a way for her to vent? Did she trust her motives enough to believe that deep down she was just, that she was doing the right thing for the right reasons?  
  
I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Sydney thought. My world is crashing down around me, even the people who don't understand can see that. What is this sacrifice if I've lost sight of my motives. Oh, Danny, why do I have to be so damn horrible? Why can't I ever get anything right.  
  
Her body felt empty. She was just alone. In the dark house, in the big city, in the enormous world she was isolated, like a prized baseball card that no one could ever touch, that sat in a box gathering dust.  
  
Sydney's heart ached. She wanted to run and wake Francie, she wanted to run to Will's, she wanted her Dad to just be there, to just be a pair of warm arms and a caring heart to ease the pains of her own. But of course Sydney couldn't help cringing when she thought of Francie, couldn't help hurting that Will was with Jenny, that he wasn't alone, and she gasped when she thought of her Dad's expressionless face.  
  
What have I done, Sydney though. I've cut myself off entirely. In my quest to be some comic book hero I've lost any sort of life. If it hurts me, then Francie is right. Their pain must be worse, to deal with such a cold and closed person every day.  
  
She slid off the counter and brushed her eyes where tears had inadvertently sprung. She grabbed the phone. It didn't matter what time it was. She needed to make sure of everything. She needed someone to affirm what she believed. But mostly she needed to feel that someone, something in her life was solid.  
  
"Hello?" a voice answered the phone.  
  
"It's me," Sydney said, her voice hoarse. She hadn't used it in hours.  
  
There was a pause. Was it safe to talk?  
  
"What do you need?" The voice was tired. Concered? Exhausted?  
  
"I need to see you."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Now."  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
The phone rang.  
  
Vaughn's eyes opened. Had he dreamed the noise? He closed his eyes and it came again, this time piercing to his sleepy ears. What kind of work emergency was this at 2:30 in the morning? But then his mind caught up. What if it were an emergency with Sydney? What if something had happened? No that was stupid. She was back from Russia. She had told him about the machine guns, about her precarious hang from the rope, but she wasn't on a mission now. Who the hell was it then?  
  
He grabbed the receiver as it rang a third time.  
  
"Hello?" His voice was tired. This better be good for a middle of the night wake up.  
  
Then he heard Sydney's hoarse voice, heard her half pleading request to see him and his heart jumped to his throat. He had told her before that she had his number, that all she needed to was call, but to hear her voice actually on the line made him start. She wouldn't call unless it was something urgent, unless something was wrong.  
  
But as he hung up he wondered. She sounded upset, tired and worn out, not as if it were an emergency. He scrambled out of bed and dressed, pulling on the first pants and t-shirt he could find and grabbing his car keys.  
  
He was hurrying. That made him smile, made him feel stupid at the feelings that were making his muscles so tense and jumpy.  
  
Look at you, Vaughn thought. You get jumpy at the thought of Sydney, even when she sounds hurt, when she sounds like she's in pain.  
  
He grimaced at himself. The fact was he was hurrying because he couldn't help it. The thought of Sydney in pain, with swollen eyes and pink cheeks made him hurt as well.  
  
I see you with bruises on your cheeks, your neck, your arms, he thought, and all I want to do is rub them away, make them better, make them stop hurting, but of course all of that would be inappropriate. All of that is why Weiss winks at me after I meet with Sydney, why that office fuck glares at me when I pass him in the halls, and why I've nearly lost my job twice. Because people think that I kind handle myself. Attached?! He wasn't attached. He was concerned, that's it, as well he should be when so much of her life rested in his hands, in his ability to look out for her. In his ability to do his job. Appropriately.  
  
Vaughn ran a hand through his hair. He was a professional. You don't control what agents are put under your care, but you do control how you handle them. He wasn't going to let Sydney down. He locked his house behind him. Maybe he couldn't control what passed through his dreams, what his mind took from reality and twisted inside his head. That he couldn't control, but he could control himself around Sydney. His dreams had nothing to do with his feelings. Everything was fine. Everything was simply professional.  
  
  
  
~ Slow start, I know. Zzzzzzz. ( Give it a chance. I'm wordy (I know that too) but when it comes to S/V meetings, who wants to rush them? Feedback always a delight. 


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

~WONDERLAND~  
  
"Down the Rabbit Hole"  
  
  
  
~  
  
Sydney didn't lean on the accelerator, though she was dying to. She kept herself calm even though she couldn't entirely ignore her eyes, glossy with so many tears that she was having difficulty maneuvering the streets she knew so well. Thankfully none had found their way over the edge and down her cheeks, but she couldn't hold off blinking for much longer. She was straining to make out taillights ahead of her. Finally she wrestled herself back into control, taking power away from her wet eyes and focusing all her attention on staying within the speed limit despite her need to force all her anxiety, all her loneliness into the wavering speedometer.  
  
What a twisted little world, she thought. What a horrid little wonderland I live in.  
  
She almost laughed. She was drawing comparisons to a fairy tale, how stupid. But then her mind expanded on the idea for her, pulled her down the path she had begun with such a stupid phrase.  
  
I live a dream, she thought, I live in a place that doesn't exist. This is no reality, this is no life. I'm like some circus act, someone trying to juggle dozens of torches, knowing that the next one could be the last.  
  
The only thing was that they weren't torches; they were lives, other people, simple human beings who deserved everything that they could attain. Didn't it matter that so many others were safe? Wasn't she smart enough, good enough, to know that her sacrifice meant so much to so many even if they could never thank her? She couldn't answer herself, so she fell deeper into the trap of blame.  
  
There was no way Sydney could think of herself as good, as being anything but selfish for how alone she felt, how hurt and alone. How couldn't she be anything but that selfish woman who wallowed in her own self-pity? She told herself that she couldn't deny what a fake life she had, what a crazy fucked up existence she lived, because no matter what she did it all felt like a dream.  
  
Hell, I'm so deeply in denial that I even dress up as the character for Halloween, she thought. As if I'm not already entirely transformed I feel the need to make it all complete.  
  
She pushed the accelerator harder with the anger of the realization. She thought back to her storybooks, her mind viciously unleashed to lead her down it's own corridor of self-deprecation. If she was Alice, if she had fallen down this hole into her wonderland of spies and lies, than who was she chasing after, what white rabbit had she followed into this cruel dream? Her mind jumped to the face of her dad, but she instantly dismissed it. Her dad had been there first, had possibly been the reason she had been given an offer, possibly why she had "fit a profile", but her choice hadn't been based on him. No, she was chasing something else. The white rabbit was something different.  
  
Her mind jumped again. Ahhh, she remembered her psychology classes.  
  
A mirror image of myself, she thought bitterly. I'm following something, anything, like it's bait, like it's a shadow right around the door that I stretch for, reach for, but that always eludes me.  
  
Of course the answer then wasn't outside her, but inside.  
  
Then the white rabbit is myself, myself happy and complete.  
  
Maybe that's why she had needed to tell Danny, because she was facing herself, facing her fears and finally stretching as far as she could reach for that feeling of wholeness. She wanted to be complete. She and Danny would have been complete. But of course that brought the tears back. She couldn't help it, she was numb with pain and in reality she didn't want to control it.  
  
Her mouth went wide, she tried to scream, but all that came out was a high wail of grief. She beat the palms of her hands into the steering wheel and the jeep jumped to 100 mph, but her frustration, her void inside was too wide.  
  
So the white rabbit has changed, she thought. I'd found myself by finding Danny; he'd showed me what was always there but what I just couldn't see. So now do I do it for you, Danny? Do I chase after revenge? Do I hunt now with a knife instead of blue eyes and a white apron? But then does that mean that it's all the same, does that mean that I'm still doing it for myself? Is it just one more mask I place on this rabbit to hide who it really is?  
  
She wanted to be sick. She almost flew into a rage. She just couldn't get there fast enough. Part of her mind was still, calm, calculating and perfectly aware of how dangerously she was seated on the edge of chaos. She was hanging on, but the enthralling pull of her mind was draining her of reason. The last bit of sanity she grasped for couldn't hold her, she needed something else, someone else, to pull her above the crashing waves of insanity, before she fell, down…. down…. down…. the rabbit hole….  
  
~  
  
  
  
Vaughn drove carefully, trying to breathe normally, trying to let his mind think of other things, but his racing heartbeat betrayed him. It took all his strength not to gun it for the warehouse, to sprint through the maze of hallways, just to look at her, just to be there when she cried, when she hurt.  
  
Instead he drove with care, concentrating on each turn, each movement of his hand, focusing as if keeping the car between the little yellow lines was the most complicated thing he'd ever done. In reality what was complicated was pushing his feelings back, bundling each new thought of her and wrapping it tightly and fitting it into his package. His package labeled "Never to open". Because what would happen if he ever opened it? What would happen if he dared to peek inside? He'd waited so long, repressed it so deeply that it would probably kill him, to see the archive of thoughts and dreams, feelings and emotions that were contained in that little package. No, in the outstretched arm of his mind he could examine them, could look at them objectively.  
  
He almost laughed at his own denial. "Objective" was shot to hell. He couldn't be objective, because his whole world centered on that denial. Vaughn thought of Weiss, thought of the office fuck who had nearly taken Sydney from him. They were right, Weiss especially. He didn't like to admit to himself that Halkadi could have anything but empty space behind his eyes. Weiss saw through his denial, but then again his answer, as it was to everything was to get drunk, to just wash it away further in pitchers of beer. This, he was sure though, couldn't be washed away by even the strongest of alcohols.  
  
Weiss had still been sympathetic, but he was getting tougher, maybe because he was starting to worry, maybe because he had created his own package of thoughts about Sydney.  
  
Vaughn let out another short laugh. What, so now he was getting jealous and paranoid? No, Weiss was right. He was in a position of delicacy, an important link in a fragile little web, with Sydney hanging in the balance. He couldn't get out of line, couldn't be emotional, couldn't be anything but professional, because if he did the consequences would be horrific.  
  
But all that couldn't stop is heart from beating faster. It wasn't making it any easier to hold his "package" out in his hand objectively. He wanted to dive in, wanted to revel in the freedom that the truth would bring. But it also made him feel sick. It made him angry that he was so weak, so stupid, to believe that anything he could want could be above the safety of the woman he was there to protect. How could he be willing to sacrifice it all for something that he couldn't even affirm from her?  
  
He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes, ran his hand through his hair. Why was he questioning himself like this tonight? He called. Sydney came. Now it was simply reversed. Vaughn wasn't a guy to obsess over women, to picture them only covered in skin, to constantly fixate on them, so why couldn't he stop. It made him angry that he couldn't stop.  
  
But still his face was controlled, his car traveling mildly, betraying nothing of his exhausting inner fight.  
  
~  
  
Back and forth. Back and forth.  
  
Sydney paced, holding her forehead in her hand, wishing now that she hadn't fed her anger and fear with the accelerator because the wait in the stony warehouse was excruciating. But there didn't seem to be anything to fuel whatever hunger was eating away at her, and all her pent up energy had to be spent somewhere. She continued to trace the same path across the warehouse floor, willing Vaughn to get there sooner.  
  
She finally sighed and sat on the metal table in the room, dangling her feet before she pulled them up onto the table and stretched over them. She took deep breaths, easing her head onto her knees and resting it there. Her chest, her lungs, her entire body was still twisting with the turmoil her mind was experiencing, but she tried to access that bit of solace by breathing deeply and focusing on each little bit of reality around her.  
  
Her arms slid along the table. They glided down to her feet. Her fingers pressed into her shins and curled back the toes in her running shoes. She was real. Maybe her life wasn't real, but her body was tangible, as were the objects around her. It was calming.  
  
The other world, wonderland, the one she thought was reality, that was the fiction not this one. Not the one where she could touch and hold onto the things that her eyes rested on without them disappearing through her fingers like curls of smoke.  
  
She was so drunk, so intoxicated with her wonderland that she was just now realizing how far she'd fallen. What if there was never a way out? What if some fate was willing her to forever chase something that she could never have?  
  
Sydney sat up and hunched over her legs as she swung them nervously over the edge of the table. Drowsiness was starting to set in.  
  
What was it, 3:00 already? Later? Maybe she had been stupid to call. The questions that kept circling her mind couldn't be answered by someone else. How could she expect Vaughn to understand if she couldn't even begin to grasp what was happening to her? She was starting to feel giddy and silly. Vaughn would come and she'd have to tell him that it had been a mistake. She didn't need his help. There was no way he could figure out her problems. No she just needed time, needed to contemplate what was going on, because she was sure, dead sure, that the path she had chosen was leading her somewhere that she wasn't likely to return from.  
  
But then again this wouldn't be her first mistake. She sat up straighter with the thought. How many weeks ago had she told him she was quitting, that she was done, out, finished? She smiled bitterly. There was no way she could have ever been that stupid. Was there anyway she could have possibly believed she could get out? That she could just tell Sloane that she was quitting for a regular life? The events of the past week had certainly cleared up that little delusion. In fact they had exposed how deep she was rooted in her lies. Francie, Sloane, Dixon, Will, they had all shown her in their own ways that she couldn't get out by some hidden exit door.  
  
She was going to have to claw her way out. She would have to retrace each step that she had so naively trodden in the beginning, twice as difficult on the way back, because the hole was so incredibly deep.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Vaughn had been driving so slow he almost felt like yelling at himself.  
  
Get off the road you jackass, stick to the slow lanes.  
  
But then he looked around and his lips stretched into a little grin. Who was he kidding, it was 3:00 in the morning. Dead time. No one was out and with good reason.  
  
He flicked his fingers on the steering wheel a couple more times and finally gave up.  
  
To hell with it.  
  
He finally got the car over the speed limit. He could because he was in control. He was in control of everything. The freeway lights finally began to blur passing his car windows. How long had he wasted trying to prep himself for this meeting? Too long.  
  
As he sped towards the industrial district the first fat drops of rain fell from the sticky humid sky.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Sydney was still contemplating her last mistake. She had been able to believe for a split second that she and Vaughn might possibly be able to connect, to do things that were real, to explore the young friendship that this life had brought them.  
  
She wanted more than anything to have the opportunity to share something normal with this person who had become her only confidant. He was so crucial to her, so incredibly vital that she was worried that he really was her only link to a sane world. He couldn't be troubled by the same lies she had to tell, the same hurt she endured from how she was forced to treat her friends. He couldn't possibly feel that his world was anything but merely unusual. His wasn't filled with so much deception. But then Sydney hadn't considered her own part in his life.  
  
There was no way she would have been able to carry on if not for him. He had managed to save her so many times. Because, sadly, who else was there. He was the only safe person, the only one who she could trust with all her burdens.  
  
But of course she was burdening him. Fury boiled within her again. One more time she was proving to herself what a selfish human being she really was. She was the one who called him when she was hurting. She was the one who layered her fears, her troubles, her pains on his shoulders. She was crushing him. She was crushing her only ally. Her father, her friends, her "work", it didn't matter because Vaughn was safe. He was like someone standing at the back door, able to carry away the things she needed taken without disturbing the front of her life.  
  
But what was she really supposed to do? She could feel herself slipping again. Sydney didn't want to reach for him but did she really have a choice. She was starting to become afraid, seriously frightened that she was going insane, that maybe her life wasn't a virtual illusion, but actual hallucinations.  
  
She jumped off the table just as she heard a door pound shut and footsteps approach from a distance.  
  
Her heart began to race and she didn't know why. She found herself spinning, vertigo seizing her body and she was helpless to stop it. Was this relief? This anticipation, she couldn't block any of her pain anymore. The damn burst, she had held out so long. Finally she could sink to the floor in peace.  
  
~  
  
  
  
- oooh, I managed to put out another one. I love the feedback, it's very sweet, all of it, thank you. And once again don't shoot me down for my wordiness and my slowness, this is nothing, teachers invented maximum word limits for people just like me, hehe. I'm perfectly aware of it and utterly helpless to stop it. 


	3. The Pool of Tears

~WONDERLAND~  
  
"The Pool of Tears"  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Francie woke up with start. She blinked and her dark room swam into view, but when she tried to focus she realized that her eyes were wet and she tasted salt in her mouth. She gently rubbed her eyes. What a freak she was being. She was even crying when she was asleep.  
  
She looked through her open bedroom door and saw that the light in the study was still on. She groaned and reached for her clock. Sydney couldn't be working on that paper at 3:30 in the morning? She contemplated sinking back into the covers but finally pulled her body out of bed and trudged down the hall. She leaned her head into the study, yawning and was surprised not to find Sydney hunched over the desk as she suspected. Stifling another yawn she wandered into Sydney's bedroom. She wasn't there. She wasn't in the bathroom, or the kitchen and finally Francie called for her.  
  
"Syd?" Francie said. "Are you asleep somewhere where I can't find you?"  
  
The house didn't answer. She saw the water bottle on the kitchen counter and finally headed for the entry. Sydney's shoes were gone. She parted the blinds and looked out at the deserted street.  
  
"Fuck, Sydney. Where the hell are you off to this time." Her car was gone.  
  
Any sympathy she would have had for her friend disappeared.  
  
*God damn it* she thought *Why the hell are you always doing this Syd. What in God's name could the bank possibly want at 3:30 in the morning*  
  
Maybe this time it was the clients in Hong Kong. Maybe this time there was a crisis in the overseas department. Maybe they had recently terminated people in her division and she was temporarily filling in. Francie was tired of the excuses. She had been fed up before, had even told Sydney off, but then when she found out about Charlie… She had to sniffle and wipe at her eyes; she felt tears coming again. What she had said in their argument two days ago hadn't all been meaningless accusations. She knew now that she had meant what she said. She just couldn't understand, just couldn't begin to fathom this attachment Sydney had with a fucking bank. Why was she so obsessive about it?  
  
Francie walked back to her bedroom and slammed her door in frustration. She had been there for Sydney, why couldn't Sydney be there for her. She still wondered about why she had missed their lunch and wedding dress excursion. It seemed like the bank was always covering up for her. Well Francie wasn't going to have any of it anymore. She wasn't going to plead with Sydney when she had to leave at ungodly hours; she wasn't going to be disappointed when Sydney had some trip over an important weekend. She didn't care anymore.  
  
The rift was there, and it seemed to Francie like she was the only one working to repair it. Well if Sydney wasn't going to meet her halfway than to hell with it. Francie sniffled and rolled over.  
  
So now she was loosing Charlie and her best friend. What a God-awful week.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Vaughn sprinted from his car to the warehouse door trying as hard as possible to avoid as many droplets of rain as he possibly could, eventually to no avail.  
  
He hadn't thought about what he was wearing when Sydney had called him. He'd grabbed the nearest pants and t-shirt. What was he supposed to do? This was probably the first time in the last year it had actually rained in L.A.  
  
He slammed the heavy metal door behind him as he entered the warehouse and felt the vibration through the concrete building. He stood there for a moment trying to wring out some of the water from his shirt but he wasn't getting anywhere. He absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, surely messy from sleep and the rain, and started down the hallway. Halfway there he heard the sound of someone jumping off a table and his throat caught in his mouth. He hurried his pace, his heart racing at the thought of her standing in their little room.  
  
He strained to listen to her movements and was surprised when he heard the sounds of someone falling to the floor. Had she called him because she was hurt? Had she sustained some serious injury on her last trip? Was she in pain?  
  
His mind was moving faster than his feet, leading him on more quickly down the hallway. All his thoughts, all those Weiss would have called inappropriate were pushed out. All he wanted to know was if she was all right.  
  
Vaughn rounded the corner to the little room at almost a jog and felt his heart leap when she saw the limp pile in the middle of the floor that was Sydney. He hesitated for a split second.  
  
"Syd?" he said quietly. His voice rose in urgency. "Syd? Syd? Are you all right? Sydney?!"  
  
He was on his knees in front of her quickly, whispering her name and shaking her trying to get her to respond. He couldn't believe what a panic he was in but he had absolutely no idea why she was lying in a heap of limbs on the concrete floor and why she wasn't responding.  
  
He began to become more and more frightened and his voice kept rising in pitch and need. He was shaking her violently now. Why wasn't she responding, why wasn't she waking up? What the hell was going on. He thought he could feel her pulse but he wasn't sure if it wasn't just his own blood pounding, throbbing, more and more intensely in his ears.  
  
He finally quit shaking her and laid her gently on the ground trying to calm himself. He breathed deeper, trying to steady his breath. He swallowed his fears and clenched his jaw. Gently he felt the soft skin on her neck, just under her chin for her pulse. He almost died with relief. It was still there. Wiping some of the water that had slid from his hair to his face he waited, wondering what, if anything, he should do next. His anxiety was creeping up his chest again when he saw Sydney's eyes flutter and then open.  
  
He almost hugged her with relief. The breath he hadn't known he had been holding came out swiftly. Thank God she was OK.  
  
"Wh-wh- Oh God, did I feint?" Sydney asked looking dazed and slightly embarrassed. Her face was pale. "I can't believe-"  
  
"Sydney," Vaughn said, beyond words. He was so incredibly relieved. "You really scared me there for a minute. I didn't know what was going on."  
  
She sat up slowly and awkwardly, rearranging her twisted body. She smiled, still embarrassed, her cheeks reddening a little.  
  
"I feel so stupid," she said, massaging her forehead. She tried to stand up but her body spun slightly and she stayed on the ground.  
  
"Don't-don't," Vaughn said, putting his hands out in case he had to catch her. "If you fainted just take a couple minutes to get oriented again." His forehead was still creased in concern. "Are you sure you're alright."  
  
She laughed. "Yeah. I guess I was so tired, I was up all night working on this paper, and I think I must not have been fully awake, and I stood up, and…" her voice trailed off.  
  
She groaned, trying to hide her face behind her hand. "I feel so stupid," she said again.  
  
"No, no, just so long as you're OK," Vaughn said.  
  
Only then did he realize just how close he was sitting to her on the ground. She was leaning on an outstretched arm, the other curled around her face, trying to hide her rosy cheeks, and his hand was barely and inch from hers, their fingers nearly touching. He could feel her sharp intakes of breath as she tried to adjust her body. All his thoughts of concern and anxiety were gone. Other feelings had replaced them. All he could think about was how close her body was and how soft her skin had been when he'd touched her throat.  
  
Sydney chuckled, probably at the thought of "Kickass Sydney Spy Girl" fainting to the floor in a warehouse. They sat together for a minute more in companionable silence before they both began to feel awkward. Vaughn finally realized that their close proximity might seem odd to her and he quickly slid back and couple of inches, and braced himself against the ground with one hand.  
  
She finally looked up and shivered. Vaughn had to cough to stop himself from choking. He hadn't even realized that she was barely dressed. He could see the faint outline of her collarbones arching around the straps of her tank top. He also noticed the skin on her forearms blossom into tiny little goose bumps as she shivered. He felt his cheeks reddening slightly and he looked away, not trusting himself to examine her anymore.  
  
"I should have brought a coat," she said. "I forgot how cold it could get in here. All this concrete."  
  
Vaughn looked around for something to give her to warm her up but he didn't see anything. His own shirt was soaking wet, it wouldn't be much use to her. His other solution certainly wasn't fitting.  
  
She smiled again, that disarming smile, her eyes creasing gently. How beautiful. "I don't think I should be talking about being cold, it seems you went for a swim before you got here."  
  
"Yeah, the first time it's rained here since – since who knows, I can't remember," he replied. "It's really coming down out there."  
  
They both took a moment of silence to strain their ears to the pounding of the water on the rooftop high over head. The stone, metal, and concrete of the old building were perfect for conveying the sound, letting it reach the basement with eerie sounding vibrations. Again the silence grew strained and Vaughn began to fiddle absentmindedly with his shoelace, wishing his shirt were drier so he could offer it to keep Sydney warm. Then he thought of her in her tiny tank top and he had to catch himself again from going down the road that he shouldn't. Maybe it was better some far off Rain God had picked this early morning to cry.  
  
Finally he couldn't take it any longer. The silence was making him annoyed.  
  
"You think you're alright now?" he asked.  
  
She hugged her legs to her chest, resting her head on her knees. Damn, he couldn't see her neck anymore. She smiled. "Yeah I think I am."  
  
There was another pause.  
  
"So you said you needed to meet…."  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
She was absolutely freezing. How in the world could she have run out without a sweatshirt? Her legs were fine, at least she was wearing sweat pants, but her arms were covered in goose bumps and she felt like shivering. She laughed inwardly. Was this one of those times that people sat closer together to conserve body heat?  
  
She looked over at Vaughn, staring off into space, fiddling with his shoelace. His expression was so hard, just about as cold as she was feeling.  
  
When he turned to ask her why she had needed to meet she did shiver. How could he instantly feel like such a stranger? The tiny bit of elation she had felt after she awoke from her momentary slumber was gone. She felt exposed in front of this cold man. This wasn't the same Vaughn she had hoped would come. Sydney felt instantly afraid. This wasn't the person she wanted to hold her heart when she laid it bare.  
  
She coughed uncomfortably. She didn't know how to start. How was she supposed to grasp at reality if this ally of hers didn't seem to be on her side? No, that was stupid, he just looked serious; maybe he was tired. That's all she told herself, though she couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardness.  
  
"I-I-I-" she stuttered, she didn't know what to stay and her throat was beginning to constrict. How could he sit there so calmly? She was drowning damn it! She was loosing everything, her grip on everything, and all he could do was stare off into space as though he couldn't be bothered. She felt anger well inside of her and a tiny growl escaped her.  
  
*Look at me, Vaughn!* she thought.  
  
He seemed to respond to her tiny growl and turned, slightly surprised, to find a look of anger and frustration painted across her dimpled cheeks. His brow knotted in concern.  
  
She saw his face twist in concern and she eased the anger out of her body. Whatever it was that was bothering him, it wasn't her. He must be preoccupied with something else. Or someone else.  
  
"Sydney, what is it?" he said, mistaking her anger for frustration at her inability to express herself. "I'm here. You can tell me."  
  
She looked away, returning to the feelings that had made her pick up the phone and dial his number, the ones that had carried her to the warehouse. Why was this so hard to say? She shouldn't feel this way around him. Vaughn was a friend, an ally, someone she could trust. Possibly the only person she could completely trust.  
  
"I feel-" she began, and instantly began frustrated with herself again. She slapped her hand onto the smooth concrete floor and jumped up, returning to pacing.  
  
Vaughn moved to get up but her words cut him off.  
  
"I feel like I'm going insane," Sydney said.  
  
Vaughn tried to speak but Sydney cut him off again. He recognized her need to get this out as quickly as possible, to preserve herself from some sort of elongated pain. He settled back onto the floor.  
  
"I just feel like everything's falling apart," she said, "like everything in my life isn't real, as if it's so delicate that every time I touch something it just crumbles and turns to dust. I'm loosing Francie, she doesn't trust me anymore, she feels like she doesn't know me, and she's right. She has every reason to think that. What kind of person am I? What kind of person does this kind of thing? This is a dream world I live in. I'm sitting in a Goddamn warehouse right now, a fucking warehouse at 3:30 in the morning. Who does that? Who in hell does that?"  
  
Her words began to get more and more violent. She was spitting them out vehemently.  
  
"I don't want to live like this. I don't want to feel like I'm going crazy. I don't *know* anything anymore, everything's just smoke and mirrors. What the hell is real? I can't feel anything. Everywhere I turn is another lie, another secret. I can't even think of why I do this anymore. Every reason I come up just proves what a horrible person I am. I'm this person who lies to people, this person who keeps secrets from everyone she cares about. Some care, they don't deserve this, they don't deserve me."  
  
"I'm such a terrible person, Vaughn," the words were rolling off her tongue and she couldn't stop them, "I'm such a fake. I'm just like my mother, only worse. I delude myself into thinking I care about my friends. She knew everything she was doing, she knew full well what was going on, and I'm every bit as hideous as she was. I thought I was trying to avenge Danny, I thought I could make it right, but it's just another selfish thing I do. I'm just chasing after all those feelings that *I* lost. It's not about him, I have to make it about me."  
  
She was nearly in tears. Vaughn still sat there, watching her, a look of pain pulling at his features.  
  
"I'm insane. God, I'm loosing my mind."  
  
She sat down hard on the ground in front of him, her body convulsing as she tried to stifle her tears. What was she supposed to do? Everywhere she turned was another brick wall that she couldn't fight her way through.  
  
She choked down air, gradually feeling better at having released the bottled up emotions. Her tears were angry, but she felt lighter, spilling out the words, even if she was agitated that she couldn't articulate the emotions that were dancing so cruelly in her heart as well as she wanted.  
  
Sydney caught a glimpse of Vaughn's face as she covered her own, trying to fight back the need to curl up into a ball and sob for eternity. He looked almost as pained as she felt and she realized how relieved it made her feel. He wasn't cold. He was just- that's just the way he was. She felt more at ease even if she was having difficulty with the tears.  
  
She reached out her hand across the floor and let it rest on top of the one he was using to brace himself.  
  
"Thank you," Sydney said, and she meant it. He didn't need to say anything. All that mattered was that he was there.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Vaughn felt a shock as he felt Sydney's hand slide on top of his own. He barely heard what she was saying. Every ounce of his energy had been spent for the last 15 minutes trying not to reach across the floor and gather her into his arms, to tell her that she wasn't this terrible person, and that everything would be all right. They would make it all right. They would find some way.  
  
Now he could barely breathe, he felt the shock of her touch against his skin. He turned to look at her and their eyes connected. This felt so right. Before he could speak or find his voice to say anything she had picked up his other hand. She held them by the wrists gently in her lap.  
  
"Thank you," Sydney said again, this time whispering. He registered through his intense efforts to control his body that she was still swallowing tears. "Vaughn, it just means so much to me that you came. I shouldn't be doing this to you, but you're the only person…"  
  
Her voice trailed off and he could sense the ache still echoing through her words. She had needed to speak, but she wasn't better.  
  
Finally Vaughn let words spill through his own dam in his mind.  
  
"Sydney, listen to me," Vaughn began, Sydney tried to cut him off but he wasn't going to listen to her, she had to know, "You've come to me before because you felt like your world was slipping away, you've wanted out of SD- 6 before, but every time I've been able to convince you that you're wrong, that you matter, and that you should stay. I can convince you because I'm right. Sydney you're not a bad person, you're not a monster, and you're nothing like your mother. You're your own beautiful person, doing something that is *real*, that matters."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No, listen," Vaughn cut her off again, "The life you live, the things you do are not a fantasy land, they are not a dream world. You are making a difference, and we need you. You don't lie to Francie and your friends because you're selfish, because you're a bad person. You can't try and tell me that. You're the strongest, most amazing person for being able to do that, and I don't think there's anything you could do to be more of a friend. You don't *lie* to them. Sydney, you have to protect them. You work to protect us all."  
  
Sydney was agitated again. She had pulled her hands back from Vaughn and he immediately missed the feel of her skin.  
  
"I'm protecting them from this sick and disgusting world I walk around in everyday," Sydney shot back at him. "I lie to them, I *use* them, Vaughn, and what have I gained? Why am I even doing this? Because I want revenge, because I want Danny back, because I'm so damn selfish I can't live without him!"  
  
She screamed the last word, her face burning.  
  
"Sydney, you can't keep blaming yourself," Vaughn said, keeping his voice mild. "This world, yes it's dark, yes it's ugly, yes it's a crazy fucked up place, but this is real. You can't wake up from it. Sydney, your lies don't mask who you are. Your not made up of your lies, and you're all the better because you don't want to tell them. People care about you, you matter to people, and your not selfish. You aren't doing this because you're selfish, you're doing it because it feels right, because no matter what could have happened, the truth would have kept you going. The truth."  
  
She was loosing the pink tinge on her cheeks as he spoke so calmly. Her eyes darted, struggling to believe him, not sure if she should.  
  
"I-" she still couldn't speak.  
  
Vaughn finally took the initiative. He slid across the floor closer to her and gathered her hands in his own. He clasped them together, feeling how delicate and bony they were. It didn't matter that they weren't supposed to touch. She needed this, but he also wanted to do this.  
  
He finally looked up from her hands and caught her eyes. They were drier now but they still seemed to be searching. He could see each individual eyelash; her face was so close. He was surprised how short they were, but how deep her eyes were. They pulled him in. He let his eyes travel down her face, registering her flawless lips, slightly parted, sucking in air to cool herself.  
  
He slid even closer and he could feel her freeze in front of him. His fingers slid slowly up her forearms and back down again. Her body shook slightly but her eyes were wide, they hadn't left his face. Finally his fingers left her arms, one at a time and slowly rose to her face, cradling her head.  
  
Vaughn couldn't stop himself. She needed to know. She wasn't horrible, she wasn't bad, and he cared about her. He wanted her.  
  
Finally he leaned towards her, and ever so gently let his lips touch hers. Instantly he felt as if his whole body had caught fire, the shock was so intense. He had dreamed of this for so long, rather not let himself dream of it no matter how much he had desired to because the consequences would be devastating. He wasn't going to deal with the consequences now. They could wait.  
  
He tried to open to her, to bring her closer to him, to pull her in. Her lips were so delicate. He could feel the tiny creases in the skin. He could taste her, the warmth of her tongue… He stopped. His body went cold and he nearly froze.  
  
His eyes were lowered, nearly closed, but he could feel the stiffness of her mouth. She wasn't kissing back, she was like a corpse in front of him. He didn't want to look up because he knew that if he did he would see her deep brown eyes still wide, still staring at his face. He pulled back immediately, he didn't understand. How had he gotten this so wrong? Had he been so sure that she felt the same way? Or had he just been deluding himself, simply wishing she did?  
  
He didn't know what to do. His hands fell from her face. Her mouth was still open, but her eyes were staring blankly ahead, as if she were dead. He couldn't explain it. He felt so stupid, so naked and exposed.  
  
He wasn't prepared for it.  
  
Sydney's eyes flashed and with a swift motion her hand left the ground and with all her strength slapped him across the side of his face. She didn't hold back. The force was tremendous and his head snapped sharply to the side, his cheek going numb. Needle thin lines of blood appeared in streaks across the side of his face where her short, jagged fingernails had cut into the flesh. His head spun and he tried to pull himself together. Through his ringing ears he heard her scream, high and full of fury.  
  
"Get away from me," she said her voice stony.  
  
Vaughn could feel the power behind her words, he could feel the anger and he knew he should be frightened. He didn't have time to think. He couldn't think of what to say. His head was throbbing with pain from the blow, and he knew that she could inflict worse.  
  
"Syd, I'm-I'm sorry," he stammered.  
  
"Get away," she screamed, "You-you-." She couldn't find the words.  
  
Vaughn got to his feet, making sure he could stand. He tried to reach out for her but she recoiled violently.  
  
"No," she whispered, her words choked, her throat constricting.  
  
He felt so confused he didn't know what to do, but what he had just done was wrong, he knew that. He headed for the hallway, turning to see Sydney leaning against a wall, her face so twisted in agony that he wanted to kill himself right then and there. He hadn't meant that. That's not what he had wanted. Sydney slid down the wall, landing with her head bent over he knees. She was crying so hard that no sound escaped, her body was simply convulsing with each sob.  
  
He couldn't leave her. He couldn't do that. But there was nothing he could do. The silence was unbearable. He could feel her heart breaking. Nothing could reverse things.  
  
He turned and walked away.  
  
  
  
~ 


End file.
